


I'll meet you when the day breaks through

by blackkat



Series: Crossover and Fusion Drabbles [36]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Fix-It, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 08:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Stranded in a distant world full of strange magics, Obito is just trying to get by. Then he's hired for what seems like a simple job, but—Nothing involving Sirius Black could ever be simple.





	I'll meet you when the day breaks through

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Obito/Sirius black! Pretty pretty sad manipulated bad decision men

The security on this place is hardly worthy of the name.

Entirely unimpressed, Obito walks down the hall, and in any other situation he might worry about being caught, might sneak and skulk and hide, but right now all the guards are sealed into tiny little bottles, and quite clearly no one bothered to station actual humans up here instead of just floating cloaks. It’s _sloppy_.

Still. At the very least it’s better for Obito, because there’s less chakra in this world than he’s used to, and also a lot more people who can sense such things. Kamui to get to this island was already a risk, what with the sensing charms, but—

But they're all so _sloppy_, and Obito is getting offended.

It’s a job either way, though, a little bit of extra money in his pocket, and in this strange world of wizards and magic that he’s landed in, that’s a good security net. Obito would rather not have to go back to living out of abandoned houses and having to steal to eat. He got enough of living in squalor during his years spent holed up in caves.

The cell numbers are getting closer to right, and Obito slows his steps, checking the cells’ occupants. The description he got was clear enough, but he’s wary, too. Most of the inmates seem catatonic, and if he has to haul some shivering, incoherent ball of open nerves out into the wider world, he’s going to make absolutely sure he gets paid that bonus his employer hinted at.

And then, from the depths of the next cell, a voice says, “You're looking rather like an executioner. They decide the Dementors aren’t doing a quick enough job?”

Obito stops. Flicks a glance down at the cell number, then up at the man seated on the floor. He out of all the people Obito has seen looks sane, despite his thinning cheeks and matted hair. There’s a clarity in his eyes that no one else seems to have, an attention and sharpness that’s almost unnerving in contrast.

The number’s right, though, and the description more or less fits.

“Sirius Black?” Obito asks, and the man smiles. It’s a ghastly thing, all teeth, but it’s still an entirely unexpected expression.

“Ah, _my_ executioner,” Sirius says lightly, and slowly, carefully pushes to his feet. “So what’s the occasion? Did the Ministry finally decide to give me a trial?”

Obito's been through the Ministry’s papers, trying to learn when Sirius was being held. He saw the lack of a trial, the way Sirius was immediately carted off to this hellscape of an island after his capture. It makes him think of shinobi justice, and—

Well. He would have been subject to that justice once, if he hadn’t sacrificed himself for Kakashi. It was a merciless thing, and compared to what most justice looks like here, Sirius’s situation is brutal. What Obito is used to, maybe, but—not what it should be for what Obito has seen of this world.

“No,” Obito says. “Someone paid me to break you out.”

Sirius freezes, eyes widening. He stares at Obito for one long, breathless instant, and then—

Laughs. Hoarse and ragged and cracking in the middle, an eerie sound, and staggers forward to grab the bars. “_What_?” he demands. “You want to—”

“Stage a jailbreak,” Obito says flatly. “Spring you. that’s what my contract is for. Are you going to cooperate or am I going to have to knock you out?”

Raggedly, Sirius chuckles, leaning forward to rest his head against the bars. “If you tell me we have to swim back to shore, my only question is going to be how fast we can get to the water,” he says.

The North Sea is colder than anything back in the Elemental Countries, and Obito grimaces at the very thought. “Not on your life,” he mutters, and waves Sirius back. Digs in the pocket of his cloak for a moment, then comes up with a handful of acorns and drops them at the base of the bars. Steps back, and—

“Acorns,” Sirius says, disbelieving. “Let me guess, you’ve a mad pet squirrel that’s going to tear open the cell.”

Obito rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, dust-dry. “How’d you guess?”

Reaching out with just a touch of Mokuton, he breathes in, then—

The trees surge to life in a rumbling clatter, caught up in the scream of twisting metal and the shake of the prison’s floor. Sirius yelps, overbalancing, but Obito sticks his feet to the floor with a touch of chakra and waits for the trees to come to a stop. They curl along the ceiling, pressing out the one little window facing the ocean, and their roots have wrenched the bars clear out of their moorings. The gap is narrow, but it’s still clear, and Obito steps through it before Sirius can try to wriggle out.

“Hang on,” he says, and gives Sirius a once-over, picking out details. The Sharingan makes it simple, and when he narrows his eyes and brings his hands together, the clone that appears in a puff of smoke is a perfect copy of Sirius, right down to the scratch on one arm.

“What?” Sirius says, startled.

Obito crouches down, grabbing the still clone and tilting its head back. There’s no personality to it, no consciousness, and it isn't even breathing, but that’s exactly what Obito needs. He’s seen how they dispose of bodies here. All it needs to do is last through getting stuffed in a shallow grave, and it has enough chakra in it that it will.

“I'm not just getting you out,” he tells Sirius. “I'm supposed to make sure no one knows you're still alive, too.”

“Are you,” Sirius says, sounding faintly suspicious. “And who exactly is this employer of yours? Who are _you_, for that matter?”

“Obito,” Obito says, and rises to his feet. Lets a touch of chakra bring his Mangekyō to life, and steps towards it. “Come on, this is our way out.”

Sirius casts a quick glance back at the still clone, but follows willingly enough. One of the few perks of the magical world is that people there tend to be largely unshakeable where methods of transportation are concerned.

“Faking my death, is it?” he asks, amused, and lifts his head to look around as they emerge from the portal. It’s a small safehouse, tucked deep in the English countryside with no neighbors close, and Obito takes half a second to check that it’s still empty before he turns, and then…stops.

Sirius’s eyes are on the sky, on the sunlight breaking through the clouds, and his whole expression is twisted up in something that looks like pain.

“I think I forgot what sun looked like,” he says, and it sounds like it’s meant to be a joke, but it settles as something far closer to truth.

“Five years in Azkaban will do that,” Obito says quietly, and—he spent too long underground to ever not appreciate the sun. Apparently he isn't alone in that.

It’s something personal, though. Something that he doesn’t need to see, so he leaves Sirius to the open air and pushes into the small cottage, checking that everything’s as he left it. It seems to be, and none of the barriers have been broken, so Obito's willing to believe they’re safe. Safe _enough_, at least; there’s time for him to check up on some things, get the next stag of the plan settled, and work up disguises for Sirius and the next target. Easy, for a shinobi, and Obito is more or less pleased to finally have the chance to use old skills. He’s been mostly kicking around assassinating crusty old purebloods for their rivals, these last few years.

He’s in the middle of looking through his supply of tea when the door creaks open, and a very quiet Sirius enters. If his cheeks are a little wet, Obito certainly isn't about to say anything. He just lifts a box of breakfast blend in offering.

“Please,” Sirius says roughly, and sinks down in a chair at the small kitchen table. “I—you can't tell me who hired you?”

“Now I can,” Obito says with a shrug. “I didn’t want to with other people possibly listening in. No one will believe a madman if he says you faked your assassination, but if he offers a name someone might think to take him seriously.” He pauses, looking at Sirius for a moment, trying to judge a reaction; after all, he’s been in Azkaban for almost half a decade now, and for all that he looks calm and mostly sane, that’s likely enough to leave cracks in anyone’s psyche. “It was Remus Lupin. He wanted me to get you out without arousing suspicion of a jailbreak, and then get you to your godson.”

“Harry?” Sirius breathes, and closes his eyes. Presses a hand to his face for a moment, and then says fiercely, “You're taking me to _Harry_?”

“He’s being abused,” Obito says, and—that was Remus's word. To Obito, checking on the boy, it seemed like the same sort of way he grew up, if with more oversight and less training in how to murder people, but he’s not being paid to make comparisons. He’s getting paid to remove Sirius and Harry both from their situations and protect them. “Remus wants you both out of reach of any Death Eaters.”

“Remus,” Sirius repeats, and laughs, tangled up in his throat. “Remus was convinced I killed James.”

“I didn’t exactly ask him for his life story and all of his reasoning,” Obito says, annoyed, and jerks the tap on to fill the kettle. “It’s a job—”

A hand catches his, squeezes. “Thank you,” Sirius says hoarsely. “I—thank you.”

It is, Obito thinks wryly, the first time he’s ever sincerely been thanked for a job. Swallowing, he tugs his hand away, turns—

Sirius is watching him, and the look in his face is everything Obito felt in the wake of Madara's death. Even with Zetsu, even with Kaguya rising, Obito had seen him die and thought _I'm free_.

“You’re welcome,” he says, and it’s a little bit harder to breathe than it should be.

With a flash of a grin, teeth and rising humor and something fierce as a storm-wind, Sirius meets his eyes. “Harry next, then?” he asks, and it’s almost cocky.

Obito expected a half-dead, wholly mad prisoner, as likely to throttle him as agree to his plans. This is entirely outside the realm of what he planned for, because Sirius is…sharp. Focused, and it’s almost unnerving. “A wand and a haircut for you,” he corrects, “and new clothes. And then Harry.”

Sirius grins, wolfish, and Obito has to very deliberately not let his breath catch.

“Well,” he says, and fixes Obito with a look that’s all intent and sharp edges. “It sounds like you’ve got all the plans we need, then.”

Obito does, but—it’s also rapidly becoming clear that he’s miscalculated on several matters.


End file.
